Past Tense
by DEACTIVEDUSER
Summary: Past Tense.Chapter 8:It's a cold day.Ponyboy Curtis.R&R please.
1. TwoBit

Disclaimer:I own nothing.

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_Past Tense_

_Keith Matthews_

"Everyone does it."

That was the only answer I got from Ernie.

"Kid," he said, looking down at me. "I don't expect you to go robbing little ladies but just watch and learn, you'll need ta someday."

I cocked an eyebrow, something that came to me easier than, say.. mm...maths or school.

"Wise ass," he laughed as he swiped a six-pack and stuffed it into his jacket naturally. He did it so quick, that I near didn't see that.

"Look, everybody does it," he told me, his eyes going sad when I opened my mouth to try ask him again .It was like he knew what I was going to say before I even opened my mouth.

"Its wrong," I said, I mean, that's what my mom tells me but even I know, its dumb to tell that to a tough hood like Ern.

"Aw, Keith," he grinned at me, trying to keep it light, keep being like the older brother to his young, inexperienced friend. "What that guy don't know, won't hurt him."

I hadn't gotten the nickname "Two-Bit" yet. Hadn't gotten so tough yet. But I would one day, I just didn't know it at that time.

I turned around and waved to the store owner who waved back, oblivious we just got a five-fingered discount on a pack.

"Wise ass," Ern howled as we got into the car. "You just had to wave, didn't ya?"

I felt easy on my ten-year old face.

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_Two-Bit_

"Ah. Good old Ern." I thought as I walked into the same place where I'd got my first lesson and only, really. I was a natural at it, didn't need too much in the way of advice. When I was younger,I did pocket a sweet or two but I didn't give it a name. Of course, now it had one.

Now, I was nineteen and he was...well, he was either dead or in the state pen, I guess. I don't look up most of my pals from my kiddie years. The circumstances as then were near same though. Just that I was hell lotta bigger and it was Ponyboy I was with, not Ern.

"Two-Bit, you gotta be crazy," Pony shook his head but he smiled so I figured he didn't mind. "Why'd you like to lift so much anyway? Its not like you really need tampons."

I gaped at Pony. "Sure I do,you just don't know when..."

Pony turned red but he went on. "Come on, Two-Bit. Ain't you ever figured to buy something instead of jacking stuff?"

"And ruin my rep?" I asked. "Nu-uh. What's with the third-degree interrogation?"

"I don't know," Pony sighed. "I just been thinking a lot nowadays."

I looked at Pony, he sure looked like he could use a fag but he quit some time ago. We could all still tell when was itching to have one though. I paused,wondering if I should and shook the doubts away.

"Here," I told him, taking a can outta my jacket and passing it to him.

He started, surprised at what I held out.

"Take it," I said. "Ya'll need it."

He shook his head and I smiled easily, trying to keep it light.

"Turning down a free can?"

"Darry'll skin me if I drank...and you too." he warned me. But I knew that warning label well enough and shoot, when have I ever paid attention to 'em?

"Hell,kid," I said. "Somedays we all just need to get drunk." I flipped the tab open and took a drag.

"I don't get it,Two-Bit," he told me. "You're better than this, you ain't need anything from a can."

I looked up, heavenwards not skyward, that's what mom always said. The sun shone glaringly and blinded me momentarily.

"Kid, sometimes, getting drunk feels like the only thing I will ever get to do," I told him, my voice husky, shutting my eyes for that blessed darkness, away from the pain of that light.

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/A.N/:_Past Tense _is just the working title for now.I might change it because its just a stab of a title in the first,I thought this would do good as a one-shot but now,it looks like another chapter did just be do you think?Hope you liked this. R&R!


	2. Sodapop

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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_Past Tense_

_Sodapop Curtis_

I waited at the front door, leaning on it heavily so it wouldn't sweep and shut close with a bang as it had so often before. Mom and Dad got into the car, laughing and I wondered absent-mindedly what the joke was, was it something about me?

I raked a hand through my hair in case something was stuck there. Nope. I shrugged, whatever it was it probably was nothing.

Dad sat in the front seat, his face slowly getting red. The car wouldn't start. I chuckled, loping down the steps.

"Need help?" I called, pushing the car from the back.

It rolled down quickly , surprisingly.

I was expecting it to take more time, cars don't take to me as fast as girls or horses do.

Mom smiled and called me sweetheart, reminding me to get in bed early. Dad clapped me on the back.

Dad honked at the end of the street before taking the turn.

Pony poked his head out the window, raising his eyebrow, a trick he learnt from Two-Bit.

Darry looked out the door, gesturing at me to come in.

"Its cold," he hollered.

I ran in and the door shut behind me with a soft, final click.

Now, thinking back, I bet it must have been a sign. That for once, we were home together or that the car wouldn't start up right.

Maybe if I hadn't pushed the car that night...

_I lost something that night and it ain't just my parents. But whatever it was, I want it back._

_

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_

_Sodapop _Patrick _Curtis_

That's what I think as the bus rumbles loudly and skids finally to a stop beside me .It pauses, impatient.

"Don't cry, Pone." I pleaded softly. "I'll be back, I promise."

Pony looked at me with his red eyes. He wasn't crying anymore but he might as well have.

"Soda," he said but that was as far as he got 'cause I gave him hug.

"I'll be back, I swear." I told him.

I told him-I reminded myself.

_I'll be back._

"Soda pop," Darry said. "You take care of yourself there, little buddy."

Darry looked awful, his eyes were red-rimmed as well and his voice was choking up.

"I will," I promised.

I turned to Two-Bit, who stood there silently. Not drunk nor joking for once. His face was serious and he gave me a brief hug, telling me to write.

Steve stood beside Two-Bit, his face was angry.

"Steve-"I said.

I didn't know what to say.

I didn't know if I wanted to feel sad he had gotten his own draft letter a few days ago or upset.

In the end, I gave him a hug to, not saying anything.

Then, I walked away, climbing onto the bus.

The bus drove away, quicker than I would have thought.

My family became just dots in the distance and my vision blurred with the tears blinding me.

I leaned back, my face on fire, embarrassed for bawling like some Soc baby.

_I don't know what I'm losing now but I sure as heck still know I want it back.

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/A.N/:Its a lot shorter than my previous chapter,I know.I apologize for that. :c But on the other hand,at least I managed to get off my lazy butt and do _something._ :) Review please!


	3. Darry

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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_Past Tense_

_Darry_

There is something oddly attractive about coming here even as I know it takes away precious time for work. Now, I can't put a name to it but its there all the same. Maybe it's 'cause it reminds me of the old times back before I carried the weight of not just mine, but my brothers' worlds as well on my shoulders. I told Ponyboy that I would be gone for a few hours at most and they've passed quicker than I would have thought. I stretched out, arching my back and yawning, just for the sake of it. This was one of the few places in Tulsa that had'nt been overrun by buildings or people. I got up and walked off to the pick-up truck,parked messily on the grassy lot. Without another look back, I drove off. What was the point? I had never been good at looking back and I knew the place like the back of my hand. Tall trees with tall frames hiding the clear lake from view, leaves falling no matter the season to give the illusion of nothing.

You did think I would have forgotten this place, seeing as how the last time I came here, it was when I was a kid with Dad.

No. Not really. Not _the_ last time. The last time _with_ Dad.

When I was younger, Dad would always tell me to look out for Soda and Pony.

"_They need you," he said._

And I know that. I know that too well now. I could have gone to college, you know. Went on. Got everything I've ever aimed for. I'm not gonna lie and say I didn't know that when I was first given a choice. But the truth is, was there even ever a choice from the start?

_I'm too young. I don't have money. I don't have money._

I panicked.

But then suddenly, when I thought and realized that it meant I would leave my brothers....well, I could barely think of the alternatives. Suddenly, it just narrowed down to the fact that I couldn't let go. And that just made the choice up for me.

I couldn't let go of them so I let everything else did. I stuck with it and instead, let everything else that I've ever cared for, cared about, go. To fall to the ground with that feather-light smoothness. To fall like cigarette ashes scattered by wind.

They never told you what really matters in school. They don't tell you how dreams break . They don't tell you, that it is never how you expected it to be. You expect the world to stop, to come to a stand-still for just you. But it doesn't.

Dreams break with a silent, deafening crash that no one but you will ever hear.

They break like glass. Loud and quiet at the same time.

They never tell you how they will smother and suffocate you whenever you think too hard.

They leave you, tangled and dangling at night, knowing that you will never find a way out of this. Lying in the bed, the night the police came and told me just how deep Hell was, I cried silently. But the next morning, I already knew, Soda and Pony. They must never know. They must never know that I had even thought of leaving them.

Tonight, sifting through these letters stacked haphazardly on the table, I come across one that bears Soda's name and something that I have prayed that I will never see.

Yet, here it is.

My fingers clutching tightly on to the call card of my worst nightmare, I call Soda's name.

"Soda!" I call,my voice, hoarse. Soda opens the door of his bedroom and I see his eyes are bloodshot and his face is pale from crying. He sees it in my hand and shuts the door close hastily.

"Soda!" I holler desperately, pounding on the door.

Then I hear his voice thin and soft from stress,

"I know, Darry. I know."

But not really because the sound of glass tinkling and dreams breaking ring too loud in ears.

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/A.N/: Darry's POV. This was....surprisingly easy but sad to write. I hope you enjoyed reading it. Review please! I'll be glad for any sort of review or flames. Next chapter will be Steve's and it will be pretty....well. You decide.


	4. Steve

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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_Past Tense_

_Steve_

I can't lie.

Can't lie and say that I have never thought about it. It would be easy, wouldn't it? And there are so many ways to get the job done. This life. It kills me. But I have lost so much of myself, I can barely tell you who is.

I don't know who the hell that person is. The one they try desperately to find in my features. They have never found him before , they look away in disappointment. I try to find him in myself but my reflection only stares back at me with those cold, numb eyes.

I can remember the past few years clearly and vividly though they seem unreal to me. How could I have ever been so happy? They never allow you to be so happy without taking something from you. They never let you have something for free, there is always a catch. Somewhere.

I can tell you what color my best friend's, my brothers' eyes were. Are. Is he still alive? I don't know. Am I still alive? Maybe I'm just somewhere in between. It sure seems that I can't remember yesterday(_did it pass?_) or why my arms burn with these searing tracks over them. I can't tell you why I wake with empty bottles around me or why I wake up at night and just cry sometimes.

Or you could say that I remember too well.

The metal burns me though I know it should have been cool. Being near me has heated it through. It hangs, a heavy reminder of the people I have lost.

You. Me. Him.

Everyday blurs into just one day. The one, longest day of my life. The night darkness only gives the Sun a hiding-place.

I'm in a daze.

"I don't know who you are," I tell her.

This girl with long, dark hair. She floats above me, hugs me, cries. Her lips open and close but I don't hear a sound. Then like a mute TV that has been switched on.

".....Evie .Oh god, Steve. Its me. Evie."

"I don't know you."

She gasps, tears running again, ruining her dark eyes and made up cheeks. Her lips open form an 'o' but I don't hear again.

_Transmission lost._

Tonight, I'm sleeping. Or maybe I'm awake. I don't know. But tonight, something is different, I know it. I have went to bed early tonight, forgetting the painkillers and the drink.

Tonight, there will be no pain.

Tonight, I will wait.

Tonight, I have lost myself.

Tonight, I have found again.

............Tonight, I remember as I close my eyes and see a frighteningly bright light flash.

And then like a shutter click, the softest darkness.

_Steve._

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/A.N/ So here it is. Steve's POV. I know the formatting is most definitely a lot more different than the previous chapters but I think this fits in well with Steve. This takes place after the Viet war and follows the Soda dies plotline(which truthfully, I have never much liked but this popped into my head for Steve and I knew I had to write it.).Some imagery and metaphor have been taken from Sonya Hartnett's Princes and Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner. ((It's not plagiarism - I'm recycling words, as any good environmentally conscious writer would do. ~Uniek Swain)) Sorry for the long note. Review please! :D


	5. Dally

_/A.N/Another chapter!A little too short?_

_disclaimer:I own nothing._

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_Past Tense_

_Dally_

There's been a shoot-out. The guy's dead in an alley, two bullets having been barreled through his chest, courtesy of the fight earlier.(But don't you worry, I wasn't involved in it.) Blood pools around his body, making sticky splash noises when I step into it. I squat down and turn him over carefully. I don't want to dirty my hands so I wipe 'em on my jeans. He looks freshly dead and I figure he's been killed by the Brumly boys'. I grimace at the red smear on my jeans and make a mental note to hose 'em down at the Curtis's place later. its fucking annoying but i can't stand blood on my stuff. I always gotta wash them later at the Curtis's place or Buck's to get rid of the sticky feeling.

"Winston," Elias barks at me from the front of the alley.

"Hurry up, asshole," he says, grimacing. "Even in death, the dead ain't safe from Dallas Winston."

"Fuck you," I say as I pat the guy, searching for anything worth taking.

"Fuck yourself," he replies, turning back to look out for anybody coming.

"They here yet?" I ask, meaning the fuzz. I sniffed in disgust, some of the blood got onto my shoes.

"You know 'em. We can cut our throats down here and they ain't coming in the hour." Elias turns and grins at me. "Take ya time, rolling the dead, Dallas. They won't bite."  
I roll my eyes, cussing at Elias, telling him exactly what I think of him.

I take the guy's jacket off slowly and feel his pockets.

And then, I feel the cold hard metal....a gun.

I experiment with it, pulling the trigger and letting it go.

"Its empty," I say. "We went to all the trouble for a stupid empty heater?"

"Keep it, man," Elias says to me, his face serious and set. "It sure does help a good bluff."

I pause,mulling over Elias's words before gave me a sort-of grimace,midway between a scowl and a walked out and I followed him out of the dark alley into the halo of light by a streetlamp above me.

But the light...well...the light,it is as they say,you know?

_Too fucking bright._


	6. Evie

/A.N/ Chapter 6 . (:

Disclaimer:I own nothing.

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_Past Tense_

_Eve_

There is a man at the back of the room. He stands apart from the rest of us, his face is hidden by the shadows. I cannot see him but I know who he is. I turn back to face the priest as he reads the final rites over the body. Three of his friends sit in the pew beside mine. The youngest is crying, fat tears rolling over his high cheekbones, sculpted there by age. His lips are moving wordlessly but I can imagine him repeating the dead man's name anyway. The man beside him has his arms folded. His eyes are closed shut. The muscles in his arms bulge, his veins pulled taut. The last friend is stocky. He drinks beer, his eyes are glazed over and I wonder how soon it will be before his turn comes. It is silent in the church with the exception if the priest's intonation. The church is empty save for the five of us.

I put my hand over my stomach and wonder if he was angry with me now. Did I not try hard enough? I tried to, that last day I saw him. I tried to reach out to him but he wouldn't listen. He _couldn't_ listen. He had always loved me more than I loved him. And now I regret that the most.I never loved him enough when he was still here.

We always fought. Over him. Over me. Over who kissed who or who cheated on whom. His friends didn't like me. Wasn't good enough. Wore too much make up. Wore too short skirts. It was a never ending fight. We would break up but then he'd find his way back in by surprising me at work.I'd leave him notes when the sun rose and let that piece of paper say my goodbye for the day.

He loved me.

He thought I was beautiful without make 't care that I swore. Carried me home when I was drunk. Held my to me softly. He loved I didn't at that time. I didn't know how good he was to me. I went out with other guys. Kissed on their beds while thinking of him .In front of him,I would flirt with his friends. I laughed at him behind his back. Wouldn't go near him sometimes even when he asked me to.

But he loved me.

"I'll marry you,"he promised. He kissed me fiercely that night. The next day, he got a letter.

"I'm the war."

"Come back." I told him.

"I will.I promise." He smiled at me lopsidedly, hair falling over the side of his face.

We didn't speak anymore after that about him leaving. I knew he was scared. But what was there I could say? I could only let him go.

I didn't think he'd come back, broken.

I took to avoiding him but soon, I couldn't anymore. Then I started to visit him but it would break my heart each time.

I stopped going soon.

And now it's too late.

It's over. I stand up and as his friends watch me,I walk over to his coffin. I drop the silver ring into his coffin. He lies still. I brush my hands through his hair for the last time.I whisper everything I ever wanted to tell him. "I love you," my tears ruin my make up but I don't care. "I love you," I repeat softly.I hold his hand. Can't bear to look at his arms,criss-crossed with tracks.

"I love you."


	7. Johnny

A.N/: It's truly been a long time since I've wrote anything. Whew..this really brings back memories. I'm glad right now for anything that'll make me write though. I'm too much of a lazy ass,for my own good. I hope people are still reading and enjoying this fic. I'm sorry that it's been so long since an update. Thank you for sticking by all this much thanks goes to _TheNighttimeSky._ Thank her for giving me enough push to write a new chapter. :)

_disclaimer: I own nothing. _

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_Past Tense_

_Johnny Cade_

Johnny wonders what it's like to feel powerful. He wasn't outwardly strong, his small frame and thin, tired face would dispel any hint of physical strength. He was often hungry and tired. He woke up, tired and went to sleep, tired. But in the event of a fight, he could hold his own. But it's not the same as Dallas, his hero does. When Dallas fought, you could see he really _enjoyed_ it. He _liked_ beating people senseless. He got his kicks out of it somehow. Johnny couldn't imagine doing that. He couldn't imagine himself jumping someone, just for laughs. Sometimes after a brutal jumping, Johnny would just lie there on the concrete and wonder why people did it. Did they really, honestly like it? Was it that exciting to see the contours of a bruise take place on skin? Swelling red before fading to a familiar shade of blue and black. He had plenty of experience with that.

Cut lips and broken bones, it came with the territory. Ain't no one living in the neighborhood , Johnny is sure, is safe from some form of hurt. He hated it though, when they had to fight with Socs. They fought dirty, not plain fistfights but with weapons. Weapons scare him and he knows it's his weakness, especially after his near-death experience , he's even more shook up at the thought of it coming close enough to his face, within a hair's breadth. It triggers bad memories for him, that of blood trickling down his face, lying on the floor, shaking and shaking, of the redness slipping past his lips and sliding down his throat. Of its metallic taste and the fear that keeps him breathing heavily and heavily and heavily and he knows he's wet his pants. He can't describe it. It's the way he felt small. There is no way to describe how small he feels all the time, helpless and scared to do anything. It fills his entire chest and it stays there. It stays, wrapped around the bones of his ribs.

He has a blade now and he imagines how he would use it. He'd cut up the person a bit-just a bit, not too much. Just enough to tell them he's serious. He feels slightly less small now and a little bit bigger.

But that night, he is paralyzed, all he can hear are Ponyboy's screams and his own heart, thump- thump- thumping against the walls of his chest. All he can think is for once, how he needs to be big and his body moves out of instinct, his hand jerks and the blade pushes cleanly into the boy. It bleeds straight away and he sees the boy's eyes, wide and full of feeling. He knows how the boy feels, he feels small. Johnny jerks his hand back and the blade pulls out of the flesh , dark-red and dripping with another person's lifeblood. Another person's fear. The boy's eyes are still open but now, they are empty ,the fear having bled out of him.

Johnny realises then- there isn't much difference between feeling small and big.


	8. Ponyboy

A.N/:Here's another chapter. :D Am I doing well? Hmmm..no? Well, I'll try my best either way. *smiles* Please review after reading, thanks. :D To _Kim_,thanks for the last review. :) Did you like the surprise? (Although you might not have read it didn't reply. :P )

disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Past Tense_

_Ponyboy Curtis_

It's a cold day.

I take my jacket from where I threw it at the corner of the room and shrug myself into it. I catch my reflection in the window as I rise from bending over to pick said jacket up . I have dark circles under my eyes, souvenirs of sleepless nights and writing into the early hours of the morning. I just can't sleep. Soda's just left and while I know he's still in the country for training, I can't help but worry. I can't help _but _worry. After he left, I started counting the minutes, the hours, the days. It's been three full weeks since he was last here. Three weeks of him preparing for a war that he might not come home from. It's something we're all thinking in the back of our heads although we don't want to say it aloud. Saying it aloud would be admitting we're thinking it, that we are aware of that possibility.

Or maybe it's just me. Maybe it's just me, thinking that. I stare out of the window sightlessly. But that can't be true now, can it? There were small differences , fine lines around Darry's eyes now, lines that weren't there before. Two-Bit's jokes were falling short of their usual standards and Steve was drinking an awful lot more than he used to. I sit down on the edge of the bed, Soda's side of the bed. Thinking that made me feel more lousy. Lousier than I felt now. I don't bother to take my shoes off and lie down.

I missed him. I missed his easy smiles and loud, infectious laughter. I missed the way he made everything seem better. And if he couldn't, he didn't pretend that he could. He knew when you wanted , whether it was someone to listen to you or someone to tell you what to do. I was supposed to be the smart one but Soda really was the one, I think. If I got a bad grade, he'd tell me it wasn't the be all and end all. He'd stick up for me when Darry got antsy and told me to listen to Dar when I was in the wrong.

If it was anyone else but him, I wouldn't have listened. But for him, I would have. For him, I would have done anything.

The snow is falling heavily outside. I turn my head and watch as it falls. It will melt when spring comes. I wonder if the war will be over by then. If Soda might return home without ever having to leave the country for a foreign land. For war in a foreign land. For something he did not choose. I remember the night before he left. How he had broken down and cried. Tears dripped from the end of his nose. He wouldn't let me or Dar near him even though Dar was near tears himself and I was already crying.

_"I," he gasped out. "I don't want to die, Pone." He turned away from us and looked out of the window. "I didn't choose this." _

_"Of course, you didn't." the words choked themselves out of me. "You...You'll come back home, Soda." But my sentence ended like a question mark, like a puppy's tail and it neither convinced me nor him. _

_"Soda..." Darry began. "I...Soda.." Darry paused. "Just come back home to us, okay?" His voice broke, betraying himself._

_Soda looked away from the window and at us, his eyes are wide with fear, with helplessness._

_"I...maybe it's not my choice, Dar...But what if I don't?"_

_I didn't know what to say to that._

I look over to my desk where Soda's letter is. I still don't know what to say. I'll write later. When I know what to say. When all of my words are not tinged by the reality that I am writing to my brother who is in the army, who is in the war. Tinged by the reality that I might never see him again. If I wrote while I was thinking that way, I would never finish. I would have too much to tell him, to beg him to come back home. The only way to get through this was to believe that I would see him again, that he was coming home.

"Pony!" I can hear Darry hollering for me and I get up from the bed. I am almost out of the room when I pause for a bit and look at the bed. At Soda's side of the bed, there is a sizeable dent, one that he might have made after sleeping in.

I can imagine for a moment that he was just here, that he just got up from the bed. But then the reflection in the window catches my eye and I see it's just me. "Pone!" Darry hollers again.

I turn back and walk out, making sure to shut the door.


End file.
